


Borrowed Time

by indiefic



Series: Something A Bit More Special [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Something A Bit More Special" and "Cartography".  Set after 2.01 Broken.</p>
<p>He could see the goosebumps on her skin and he knew.  There was always a price for magic.  And this, most certainly, was magic.  He would have to pay, but he didn’t give a damn right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Borrowed Time

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine.

He set the box on the counter and Mr. Clark absently looked down at it. As soon as Mr. Clark realized what it was, he immediately met the man’s face. And paled visibly. 

“Um, yes, um …” Clark floundered, quickly scanning in the item. “That, um, that will be $17.83.”

Mr. Gold handed over the cash with a tight smile. 

Quickly, Clark made change and shoved the box into a plastic bag. He held the bag and the change out to Gold. “Th-th-thank you. Have a good evening.”

Gold raised an eyebrow, an incredulous look on his face.

Clark paled further. “I, uh, I didn’t mean.” He swallowed thickly. “I mean, I didn’t -”

Mr. Gold snatched the sack out of Clark’s grip with a scowl. “If I hear about this from anyone. And I do mean _anyone_. There will be hell to pay.”

“No, sir.” Clark stammered. “I understand. Discretion.”

With a mirthless smile, Mr. Gold headed for the door.

***

“So what did you do today?” Belle asked as he slid behind the wheel.

“I take it you mean aside from wondering where you were?” He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

“You’re avoiding my question,” she said pointedly.

He smiled mirthlessly, eyes on the road. “Worried I spent the day torturing people in the basement?”

She turned away, crossing her arms over her chest, staring out into the darkness. 

Inwardly, he cringed. Dammit. “I’m sorry, Belle,” he said softly. How many times had he uttered that phrase in the last week? “I just - I was worried you weren’t coming back.”

She glanced over at him. “I left the house. For the day. I didn’t leave you.” She slumped down in her seat, frowning. “I already told you I wasn’t leaving.”

“Yes, well,” he said dryly, “as you said, life is nothing but a series of choices and I am well aware that you can change your mind at any time.”

She turned toward him, planting both hands on the seat, leaning in toward him. “Yes,” she snapped. “My _mind_. My _heart_ , however is not so easily changed.”

He glanced over at her and frowned slightly. Wordlessly, he reached out and took her hand, twining his fingers through hers.

***

There were few things in this world or the last that he understood or appreciated better than a value proposition. And Belle certainly was a value proposition. She was like winning the lottery and catching a unicorn all in one fell swoop. She was too good to be true. Well, that wasn’t exactly right. She was true. Belle was absolutely as good as she seemed. But her professed love for him was another thing entirely.

He knew. He knew it was only a matter of time before he completely destroyed what they had. His greatest hope was that he didn’t destroy Belle in the process. 

Perhaps if he had been brave enough back then - the first time she told him she loved him - perhaps then he could have changed. But now … it had been another lifetime. Another lifetime of being a monster. He lived through losing her once. There had been times when he thought the pain and loneliness and regret might just kill him. But it hadn’t. At least not literally. It may have killed whatever infinitesimal scrap of goodness existed in him. Killed it so thoroughly that not even Belle’s return could resurrect it.

“You’re brooding,” she said, leaning one hip against the edge of his desk as she looked down at him.

He glanced up. “Was I?” He shrugged, sinking back in the chair.

Belle sighed and then twisted herself down into his lap. Reflexively, his arms went around her, holding her close, but he did not meet her gaze.

“I meant what I said this morning,” she said. “You can be happy. We can be happy. You just have to choose it.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said sadly. “You already know I am a man who makes wrong choices.”

She stared down at him, feeling the truth of his words and the overwhelming sadness they wrought. “Everyone can change,” she whispered.

He looked up at her. “I hope you’re right, Belle. I really do.”

She smiled sadly at him and forced herself up. She held out a hand to him. “Come on,” she said. “It’s late.”

He took her hand and let her pull him to his feet. He watched as she turned out the parlor lamps. She circled back around to him and the desk, giving him a devilish grin as she grabbed the sack from Storybrooke Drug Store. 

“Besides,” she said deviously, “I still have to figure out how these work.”

He chuckled. “Not nearly as convenient as magic, love. Trust me.”

She narrowed her gaze at him, grinning impishly. “I will reserve judgment until I see for myself.”

He motioned her toward the stairs. “I would expect no less from you, Belle.”

She started up the stairs and he followed slowly, leaning heavily on the banister and his cane. It was slow going. His foot ached terribly. He was so intent on his ascent that he was a little startled to see her waiting for him at the top of the stairs, concern etched on her face.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

He motioned to her to continue to the bedroom. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to narrow that question down a bit, love.”

She frowned over her shoulder at him. “Your leg,” she said. “You didn’t have a limp before.”

“I wasn’t human before,” he said flatly.

She turned on the lamp in the bedroom and watched as he made his way to the bed, sitting down heavily. “So you’ve always had a limp, then? Even before you were - “

“The Dark One?” he finished with a hard grin. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it and his cane into a nearby chair. “Not always, no. But yes, I had it before I became the Dark One.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, contemplating him. “How did it happen?”

He looked at her for several heartbeats and she wondered if he was going to answer her. But then he sighed, tugging at his tie. “The first Ogre War,” he said. “I got this running away. Shattered my ankle. It never did heal.” Tossing the tie into the chair, he concentrated on the shirt buttons at his wrists. “Being permanently hobbled wasn’t so bad. Especially considering everyone else died.”

She stepped closer, eyeing him warily. “You were in the first Ogre War?”

He cocked his head to the side, considering the question. “ _In_ is probably a bit of an overstatement,” he admitted. “Mostly I just deserted.”

“Yes,” she said, stepping closer still, until her legs brushed against his knees. “But the _first_ Ogre War.”

He looked up at her. “Yes, love. The _first_.”

She giggled.

“What?” he demanded impatiently.

“You’re, like, … _old_.” she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Yes,” he countered dryly. “I’m old.”

“No,” she said, still laughing. “I mean, you’re _really old_. The first Ogre War was hundreds of years before my time.”

He looked rather like a wet cat glaring up at her. “Whatever you do, Belle,” he said conspiratorially, “just make sure you don’t spare my ego at all.”

“Awww,” she said, smiling at him. “I’m sorry.”

He grabbed her waist, pulling her closer. “Damn right,” he said. “You can spend the rest of the night showing me just how sorry you are.”

She laughed, eagerly wrapping her arms around his shoulders as his hands found their way under her sweater, skimming over her skin.

“You know,” he said, tugging at the button on her jeans, “you’re wearing an awful lot of clothing for someone who wants to know how contraceptives work.”

“Oh,” she said in mock wonder, as if he had just imparted some sagely wisdom, “well, by all means, we should fix that.”

She took a step back from him. Knowing that he was watching, she pulled at the button on her jeans, tugging it open. “Like this?” she asked with a wicked grin. “Is this how I’m supposed to do it.”

He made a strangled noise and then coughed in a feeble attempt to cover it. “You’re doing great, love. Carry on.”

She left the jeans for a moment, instead slowly unbuttoning her cardigan, pulling it from her shoulders and letting it pool to the floor at her feet. 

Her cotton camisole was very modest by any standard, but he was certain he had never seen anything sexier in his life. He swallowed harshly and then made a circular gesture with his hand, motioning for her to continue.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the hem of the camisole. He could see her nerve falter as she bit down on her bottom lip. But as her gaze met his, she found her courage and pulled the garment over her head.

The camisole caught in her hair, pulling it free from its loose pins and her dark locks cascaded around her shoulders. Her bra was similar to the one she’d worn last night, a pale pink with delicate cream lace detailing at the edges. The demi cups forced her breasts high, making them seem in danger of spilling free and he had to grab a fistful of the bedspread to keep from reaching for her.

She stood there for a moment, watching him. He could see the goosebumps on her skin and he knew. There was always a price for magic. And this, most certainly, was magic. He would have to pay, but he didn’t give a damn right now.

Slowly, she toed off her ballet flats, kicking them aside. She met his gaze again, her eyes locking with his as she reached for the waist of her jeans. Slowly, she shimmied, forcing the fly open and pushing the material down her hips and finally to the floor. The panties matched the bra, skimming low across her hips and not offering much in the way of coverage. She straightened up again, looking at him from beneath hooded eyes. 

She was gloriously disheveled, hair tousled and wearing nothing but the lingerie he’d procured for her. She smiled at him, advancing. “Now it seems like you’re the one wearing an awful lot of clothing.”

Roughly, he pulled her to him, urging her to straddle him. He kissed her deeply as he shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it to the floor. Twisting, he laid her back on the bed and covered her body with his own. She gasped at the feel of his bare skin against hers, digging her short fingernails into the corded muscle of his back, pulling him closer. 

Suddenly she stopped, placing her palm gently against his chest. “Your ankle,” she said. “Are you okay?”

He looked at her incredulously. “Fuck my ankle,” he swore, kissing her again.

Her tongue tangled with his for long minutes. She ran her hands over his back, down his sides, astounded again by the heat of his body, the texture of his skin. Eventually her hands found the waist of his pants and with his help, they pushed at the impeding fabric until he was bare above her. 

Impatiently, she notched one of her legs around his hip, arching up against him. He groaned, levering himself up on one elbow so the fingers of his other hand could sneak under the edge of her panties and caress her damp flesh. She gasped, her eyes falling shut as one of his fingers entered her, gently probing.

He teased her for long minutes, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, but never quite letting her fall. It was finally too much for her to take. She pushed at him, forcing him onto his back as she pushed herself onto her knees and quickly tore at her panties and bra until she too was nude.

He stared at her in wonder, but he didn’t say anything and he didn’t attempt to control the moment. She grinned at him, acknowledging his acquiescence before she lowered herself to all fours and stalked up his body. 

He tried, but he couldn’t help himself. With her bare breasts nearly in his face, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and cupping them. She hissed as he found her pebbled nipples, rolling them gently between his thumbs and forefingers.

She bit down on her bottom lip again and stared down into his eyes. Slowly, she raked her gaze down his body. The fingers of one hand followed her gaze, her short nails scraping lightly down his chest, across his hip. She glanced up, locking eyes with him for only a moment before her fingertips carefully explored the length of his sex, his girth and hardness.

He hissed between his teeth, forcing himself to lie still and let her do as she pleased. She was gentle, tentative, her fingertips gliding over him. But she became bolder. Her fingers circled his girth, stroking him firmly, causing his hips to arch up off the bed as his hands fisted in the sheets.

She watched his face contort as he fought for control, a devilish grin curving her lips. She stroked him again, softer this time, her fingers barely skimming over his taut flesh. She teased him for long minutes, learning which touches soothed and which drove him mad.

Abruptly, she released him and reached for the drugstore bag. He watched as she tore open the box and removed one of the condoms, placing it on his chest. “Show me,” she demanded, narrowing her gaze.

“Yes, ma’am.” Quickly, he tore the foil packet open. Belle watched in silence as he rolled the latex down his shaft.

She shifted, intending to lie on the bed, but he stopped her, grabbing her hips. “Oh, no, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m old, remember. I don’t have the stamina to be on top this time.”

She mock frowned at him, but accepted the challenge. Slowly, she sank down onto him, hissing as his girth tested her tender flesh. When he was finally buried to the hilt, she stilled, panting hard.

“Belle,” he groaned, his fingers biting into her hips. She didn’t move, relishing the feel of him so hard, so deep inside her body.

Slowly, she began to move, experimenting with speeds and angles until she found the perfect combination. His hands found her breasts and she arched into his touch, moving faster, lost in sensation. 

One of his hands skimmed down her side, across her waist to search through her downy curls. He found her clit, stroking in time with her movements. She moaned loudly, her head falling back as her eyes screwed shut in pleasure. “Yes,” she panted.

He didn’t tease this time. He stroked her hard, watching as her climax overtook her, watching her body shiver above him.

Before her shivering had stopped, he rolled both of them over, covering her body, driving into her once, twice, three times before he came.

***

Belle watched with sleepy eyes as he returned from the bathroom, his grip moving from wall to furniture so he could balance without the aid of the cane. Wordlessly, he turned out the lamp before sliding beneath the covers with her.

She sighed as he curled up against her back, spooning around her, twining their legs together. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her snugly back against him.

This was doomed. They both knew it. But they could pretend a while longer.

[The End - for now]


End file.
